A Good Old Fashioned Fairy Tale
by AnnikaTwist
Summary: A slightly different Harry Potter story, kind of based on an old fairy tale, lot's of adventure, drama, romance, etc. read it! g/h
1. Midnight Passions

A Good Old Fashioned Fairy Tale Chapter 1: Midnight Passions She stood there, next to his bed, breathing heavily, the knife clenched in her sweaty hand. She let her eyelids flutter shut and she forced herself to take several calming breaths. He looked so peaceful, laying there, dark hair falling gracefully across his forehead. His thick dark lashes lying in stark contrast against his pale skin. As she stood there, staring at him, the voices echoed frantically inside her head, darting around like little whispers on a wind. Do it, do it now, or you will never be free to return to us. They flickered across her consciousness, over and over, until she could bear it no longer and she took a shaky step forward. Another tentative step. And another. And another, until she was standing right beside him. But as she gazed down at him, she shook her head fiercely, she couldn't do it. She just couldn't do it. But she had to. She forced herself to remember the pain he'd caused her. The pain he'd instilled upon her all ready broken heart. She forced herself to remember the laughter in his eyes when he'd looked at her. No, not Ginny, at her. The girl he'd fallen in love with. Even inside her head, each word dripped with cynicism. How could he lover her? Why doesn't he love me, she thought desperately. But that time had passed, she'd had her chance, and now it was time to choose once more. He deserves it; she forced herself to think bitterly. But it was no use, the knife continued to hang uselessly at her side. Closing her eyes once more, she fought the internal struggle. Biting her lip in frustration, she felt herself break the skin. A small trickle of blood hung on her lip. A sob sprang from her throat, and she bent over, clutching her stomach. But as she doubled over, the drop of blood trembled for a moment, then fell. Grasping her mouth in horror, she watched it fall to Harry's forehead, where it lay intermingling with his scar. Lip curled in disgust, she flung the dagger to the ground where it lay, slightly iridescent as it caught a silvery moonbeam that had slipped in through the casement. She felt her whole body tremble and she let out a slight sigh. With that sigh, escaped her last bit of strength and she crumpled to the ground in a paroxysm of misery. Auburn hair spilled over her shoulders, slightly entangled with the yards and yards of silk that spread about her on the ground. She buried her face in her hands and knelt there, cowering beneath his window. There she sat, bathed in a silvery puddle of moonlight, for what seemed an eternity, until out of the silence came a small noise. It could have been the brittle fingers of the trees outside, tapping gently against the windowpane, but she could not be sure. Her head jerked up and she sat there, very still, muscles taught, ears straining to hear the slightest noise. And for several heartbeats, there was nothing. Until, out of the darkness, she heard it again. Frightened, she reached out, just beyond the chunk of light on the floor, and feeling the cool, smooth handle of the knife, she curled her eager fingers around it. She then rose, shivering only slightly, knife carefully poised. She crept towards his bed, and peered cautiously past the thick velvet hangings to stare into his face. What she saw made her heart freeze for several seconds. It was Harry who was speaking; he was the one making the noises. But then, the fear passed, as quickly as it had come, as she realized he was only murmuring in his sleep. "Stop," he mumbled. She tried to squeak a reply, but her voice seemed to have gotten lost on the way to her mouth, and no sound came out. "Wait-no! Don't - I…" he flopped over, calling desperately, his hand clawing at the pillow. She wanted to run to him, to comfort him, to whisper soothing things to his sleeping form. She took a step forward, but then recoiled, remembering in a rush that he did not love her and she had to kill him. You have to kill him now, she thought fiercely. And swallowing her feelings, with a determination she did not feel, she rushed forward, and made to plunge the knife into his breast. But before the blade could reach his skin, he jerked violently, and burst out, "Ginny!" She froze, the knife hovering inches above him, her hand quaking violently. "What did you say?" She breathed. He twitched again, his face contorted in agony, "Ginny!" With a jolt, Ginny hurled the knife through the window, shattering the perfect image of the moon hanging over the lake, and with it, shattering the stillness of the night. She turned to dive out the window and plunge to her death, but all her strength had left her and her breath burst from her lungs as she toppled to the floor, unconscious before she hit the ground. 


	2. ...And Strange Awakenings

Chapter 2: And Strange Awakenings Harry woke with a start to the sound of breaking glass, and his eyelids flickered open to the fading iridescent stars, he'd pinned to his canopy years before. Moaning, he rolled over, fumbling on his nightstand to find his glasses. His hand fitting around the comforting grasp, he set them on his nose and peered blearily at the clock next to his bed. The glowing red letters blinked at him in the darkness, 12:00. He let out a sigh. Why did he always wake up in the middle of the night like this? He'd been having the most bizarre dream, but now that he tried so hard to remember it, it only eluded his grasp and dissapeared into the recesses of his mind. Whatever it was he remembered it had been horrible, he felt all damp and shaky. He pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to remember if his scar had been aching, and as he drew his hand away, he noticed something on his fingertips. HIs breath caught in his throat and he gaped in horror. On his fingertips were the rusty red traces of blood. His scar had never bled before, something horrible must be happening. Mind racing frantically, Harry wasn't sure what he should do. Should he go to the hospital wing? Write Sirius? Tell Dumbledore? All the possibilities darted around in his head and he couldn't seem to grasp hold of one, not one of them seemed sensible. And then, with a sort of wave of relief, he realized what to do and smiled. He would tell Catherine. Beautiful, sensible Catherine. She always knew what to do. Harry swung his feet over his bed and stepped onto the floor. Puzzled, Harry felt something sharp beneath his feet. And for the first time that night, he looked to the side of his bed. For a brief, fleeting moment Harry thought an angel had crashed through his window and lay crumpled on the floor. There were bits of broken glass scattered all over the ground, and the window had a jagged, gaping hole where the glass had been. A ribbon of moonlight streamed through the window, and in the patch of silvery light lay a girl. Her long, reddish gold hair streamed over her shoulders, curling slightly at the ends and catching the light of the moon, making it seem like waves of liquid gold. She had on a dress, with narrow silken straps, cut very simply, with yards and yards of flowing silk. She lay face down, her hair spread all over the ground, speckled with shards of broken glass. Her upper back was exposed and on it were two narrow, vertical scars covered partly by the back of her dress. Harry wasn't sure if it was the funny light of the moon or just his eyes, but the scars appeared to be a pale shade of silver. He stared at the strange scene, blinking slightly, not sure if what lay before him was real. It was like something out of one of his dreams and he pinched himself quickly to see if he was indeed awake. The pinch felt very real, so Harry crept forward and knelt down beside the fallen angel. He placed his hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. She remained motionless. He shook her again, this time a bit harder, but she still didn't move. This time, he proceeded to gently roll her onto her back, so he could get a good look at her face. And very, very slowly he turned her over and gasped. Ginny! This girl, this-this fallen angel was Ginny, Ginny Weasley. He now recognized the delicate features, the sprinkling of freckles, the auburn hair. What had happened to her? His eyes quickly scanned her body for any kind of mark, but he saw none. He saw no cuts, no bruises. What on earth had happened? But before Harry could even guess what had occured, a very strange thing happened. A small, silvery light seemed to ignite outside the window, and came swirling into the room. It flickered briefely over Ginny's silent form, then twirled several times, round and round Harry's head before coming to rest on his forehead. Before Harry could even think, a slicing, mindshattering pain erupted in his scar. Gripping his head with both hands Harry collapsed onto the floor next to Ginny, writhing and twisting on the glass ridden ground. But, almost as suddenly as it began, it was over, and Harry lay panting, feeling weak and feverish. He sat up slowly and brushed his hand across his forehead and looking at his hand once more, he shrank back in disgust. His fingers were now covered with a sticky black goo. With his sleeve, he wiped off the remaing traces of the clinging, ink colored ooze and wondered distracedly what his scar was up to tonight. Then, once more, before Harry had time to do a thing, the door of the room burst open, and in stormed a girl with waves of thick dark hair, large expressive green eyes, and full crimson lips which were currently fixed into a horrible sneer. When she entered the room it was like a thunder storm had suddenly whirled in with her, and if you were to steal one look at her wrathful glower, it would be extremely difficult to hold your compusure, and no shrink and cower under her gaze. Harry *did* cower, and he did what he used to do when Uncle Vernon got angry, he tried to make himself invisible and melt into the carpet. He also unconciously edged closer towards Ginny, as if trying to shield her from this turbulent storm cloud. She was so furious, her anger was almost tangible. Harry could feel her hate hanging in heavy dark folds around the room. "Who did this?!" She shrieked, causing the hangings around the four posters to tremble. "Who-who did what?" Harry managed to eek out. But the girl ingored him, "Where is she? The devil! I will find her! Where has she gone?" she demanded once again, her seething glare, darting around the room. "I- I don't know. But... who?" "Who?!" The girl shrieked, " 'Who' is right! She thinks she can hide, the devil! But she can't, not for long!" She shook her fist wrathfully at thin air. "Damnit! Why did you have to interfere, and make a mess of everything?" She called into the air, as if she was expecting someone to answer. "Hmmm?" She stamped her foot in frustrarion, grinding bits of glass into the rug. Harry stared up at her in awe. Was this the girl who he'd been in love with? She was beautiful, but only in a deathly sort of way. Her eyes flashed malevolently and her dark hair quivered with rage. She gave one last stamp, then seemed to dissolve back into her normal self, and began noticing things around her. She smoothed her hair camly and straightened her robes. Then, noticing Harry, she flashed him a nasty sort of grin, but the grin twisted immediately into a frown as she laid her eys upon the delicate, yet still unconcious form next to Harry. Her eyes flickered over the marks on Ginny's back and her frown contorted wickedly into a sneer. "Ahh, I now see the roots of our problem beginning to form. I should have known, she wasn't human. No matter, everything will be taken care of very soon. The bloody idiot thought she was wise in retracting the love potion, but that's inconsequential now. It doesn't even matter." Harry's head buzzed strangely and he wished things would slow down. What was she on about? Had she gone crazy? And Harry could no longer think what he found attractive in this girl, in fact she seemed like a totally different person, and he had thought he'd loved her. Harry gave an involuntary shudder. His mind felt bleary again, and everything was jumbled aobut inside his confused brain, it seemed to be working in slow motion, or maybe everything else whas just happening in fast forward. Anyways, Harry wondered distantly, Who wasn't human? And who was she calling a bloody idiot? What potion? Things may be a little bit more difficult for me, but everything will work out just fine. C'mon, on your feet, lover boy." She gave Harry a sharp kick, and it seemed to jolt his brain back to life. Harry scuttled backwards like a jittery crab, and gripped Ginny's wrist tightly in his hand. It suddenly seemed toclick with him that this woman was dangerous and he had to get as far away from her as possible. But although, one part of his brain seemed to be working correctly, the other pieces were slow in catching up. So, he said, the first thing that drifted into his head. "I don't love you." Catherine let out a cold, vicious laugh, as she continued to walk towards Harry. "Obviously, you, little rat, the potion's all seeped out of you." This statement confused Harry, but he continued to edge backwards, dragging Ginny with him, until his back was flat against the wall, and he had no place to go. He gazed up at her, fear embedded in his emerald green eyes, and she leaned down towards him, till she was only inches from his face. When she spoke, it was in a snake like whisprer, as soft as death, "That's right, Potter. Be afraid, be very afraid." Harry blinked, and supressed a shudder, trying to keep his gaze steady, still keeping a death grip on Ginny's wrist. But in a single motion, Catherine had flicked Ginny's arm out of Harry's grasp and she held Ginny tightly to her, with a knife pressed against her throat. Harry cried out in shock, but again, before he could move, Catherine issued her warning, "Move one muscle Potter, and the princess dies." Ok, just one more note, I know it's really confusing and doesn't make any sense, but that's because everything's going to get revealed in further chapters, and I know it's strange, but just stick with me ok? Cause, I think you'll like it, all righty thanks, and until next time, ciao! 


	3. Of Beefy Men, and Dark Haired Boys

Oh goodness, look what's happened. I've gone much too far with the plot, and with everything. So in order for you to understand, we must take a step far back in time, when Harry Potter was still small and still living with is cruel aunt and uncle.~*~* Many people don't believe in fairies, but despite what people believe, they exist and they live alongside wizards in sections of the magical world. There are many different kinds of fairies, there are flower fairies, tree fairies, snow fairies, ice fairies, and even fairies of the heavens, the sun, the moon and the stars. The earth and garden fairies are permitted to wonder freely among humans and you may see one someday, if you happen to be strolling along in a particularly dense bit of the forest. You may see a flower twitch suddenly and flit off into a different part of the wood. The rest of the fairies however, of the clouds, and the sun, and the moon, and the stars can only watch humans, from their perches high up in the sky, coming down only occasionally when it was absolutely necessary. But of all the fairies, perhaps the most beautiful and elegant of them all are the fairies of the royal family, the daughters of the fairy king. There was one such fairy, who was different from all the rest, even if she was of noble blood. She was the youngest of the king's daughters, and it was said, she was the most beautiful of them all. Her hair, was long and fiery red and gold, the color of the blazing sun. Her skin, was milky white in reflection of the moon's ghostly iridescent glow. Long dark lashes framed her eyes, shimmering pools of jade green, echoing the cool green depths of the ocean. Her lips were ruby red, silencing the beauty of most luscious crimson rose. Her wings, glittered and danced as if someone had painted them with a newborn star. Being a child of the earth and sky, she was able to go wherever she pleased within the magical world, and only one place was forbidden to her, and that was the muggle world. It was forbidden by magical law to be witnessed by the eyes of an alleged nonbeliever. The ministry of magic, had an entire department devoted to the presence of fairy folk in the non-magical world, and the lack there of. And believe me, the little fairy made good use of her right to wonder, one of her favorite thing's to do was hang on a drifting cloud and watch the world slip by. In fact she loved it so much, that watching was mainly all she did. While the other fairies frolicked about, and attended fairy balls, and danced and laughed and a caused a great deal of mischief, the little fairy was content just to sit herself in someone's primrose bush and watch with great hungry eyes. But in those early days when she would watch innocently, she was happy and satisfied with merely watching, and she still enjoyed her fairy life. Occasionally she would slip into one of the balls and dance, or race with her friends on the backs of dragonflies, or catch a ride on an early spring breeze and let herself drift lazily along. But all her frolicking and merry making disappeared one day due to a certain curious discovery. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* She had been riding happily along on a cool May breeze, and it had blown itself to a halt right into a delicious sunny patch of thick, springy grass. Delighted, she rolled off the breeze and prepared to spread herself out on the grass, and drink in the lovely rays. But as she'd just settled herself down, she heard a door slam and she bolted frightfully to a nearby bush. Cowering behind the leaves, she peeped cautiously out to see a tiny boy staggering down the garden path with an enormous laundry basket clasped in his thin arms. The basket was nearly twice his size and he stumbled blindly down the path, tripping over some porcelain garden gnomes. "You be careful!" A shrill voice called from the house, " I won't have you spilling our wet laundry all over the yard!" The boy nodded solemnly behind the monstrous load. He finally came to a halt when he careened clumsily into the clothesline pole. He set the huge basket down, rubbing his little arms and sighed. The clothesline dangled from two poles, far above his head, so he dragged a lawn chair over and clambered on top of it, in order to pin the clothes to the line. The little fairy watched from her bush in shock, why was such a tiny boy doing all this work? She was especially horrified when a giant burly man strode from the house with red skin and a thick moustache, followed by a short, plump boy who appeared to be almost, his miniature, except for a wave of platinum blonde hair plastered to his forehead. They pulled up two deck chairs and lazed about, watching the small boy work, sipping two large, ice, cold lemonades. Now the boy had set down his load, she got a good look at him, and her heart melted for him, as the sun beat down on his small, dark head. His skin was very fair, if slightly sunburnt and he wore a pair of glasses with black frames, and tape all round the edges. He had masses of thick, dark hair that sprung up in all directions, lying tousled on his damp forehead. His eyes were a brilliant shade of green, and the most remarkable thing about him, was the jagged scar on his forehead, resembling a sort of crooked lightning bolt. He was very small, and very slender and had on a pair of horribly baggy overalls, that hung loosely on his thin frame. When he'd finally hung up every article of clothing, he paused for a moment to rest on the upturned laundry basket. "Get up boy!" The beefy man barked, going very red in the face. "I won't have you lazing about on the job! And if you're finished, go on inside and see what other work needs to be done." The boy rose, stiffly to his feet, but paused for a moment, and shut his eyes, as a cool breeze rifled his hair. "Now!" His eyes snapped open, and whisking up the laundry basket, he darted away inside the house. The little fairy watched the house anxiously for several minutes, hoping the boy would appear, but to no avail. And finally, she sunk back against the leaves, lost in a whirl of thoughts. She realized now, that this was a muggle neighborhood, and she was to be in very deep trouble, if she was caught here. But that thought hardly entered her mind, she was too busy drowning in sorrow for the small, dark haired boy. How could those people be so cruel? Her hands curled into fists of anger as she remembered the delighted smirk on the beefy man's face. She wanted to help the boy somehow, but how could she do that if he wasn't even allowed to see her? She sighed, exhausted with these plaguing thoughts. Giving one last longing look at the small, prim house, she rose into the air and flew home. **Well, I hoped you like it so far, don't worry there's lots more to come, and please don't forget to review. Write nice long ones, too I don't mind if you ramble. Well, until next time… 


	4. Doleful Eyes

A Good Old Fashioned Fairy Tale 

Title   
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me in any way, shape, or from. They belong to Miss J.K. Rowling. 

The boy did not leave her thoughts all the rest of that day, nor that night. Every time she closed her eyes she saw his gaunt, peaked little face and her heart ached for him. She couldn't fall asleep that night, and she tossed and turned for hours on her silken hammock, sewn from spider's thread. She was up with the sun, and darted off into the golden sky, searching vainly for the small boy's house. It took her nearly all day, but finally after hours of searching, she stumbled upon the house. It was located in neighborhood that was the epitome of neatness, and order; the houses marching up and down the street in perfect alignment, the hedges perfectly trimmed, and all the houses with gleaming coats of fresh paint. She recognized the beefy, red faced man pull up in a flashy convertible. She watched him head up the walk and the tubby, blonde boy ran out to meet him. But instead of wrapping his father into a hug, she saw him eagerly search the man's pockets, but when finding nothing, he bestowed upon him a fierce kick and waddled back into the house, scowling bitterly. The beefy man merely laughed good heartedly and the little fairy wondered distractedly if maybe the beefy man wasn't so horrible after all, but these thoughts quickly dissolved when she witnessed what happened next. A cry of joy nearly escaped her lips when she saw the little dark haired boy come teetering from the house. His arms were outstretched, and spread across his face was a jubilant smile. Upon reaching the beefy man, he wrapped his arms around one of the man's thighs, his hands barely touching. The look that passed over the beefy man's face was one of utter disgust. He stared down at the small dark head, buried in his pant leg and looked as if an enormous glistening leech had just attached itself to his leg. Lip curled in disgust, he reached down and plucked the small boy off, setting him down roughly, several feet away. The small boy stared at him through large bewildered green eyes. A muscle in the beefy man's face twitched horribly, and narrowing his eyes he bent way over so that he was eye level with the boy. He stared, unblinking. The small boy stared back. And then, in a voice as loud as thunder, he bellowed, "DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN YOU MISERABLE EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING! YOU'VE COMPLETELY SOILED MY PANT LEG, NOW I'LL HAVE TO CHANGE BEFORE I SAY HELLO TO PETUNIA. GO UP AND START A LOAD OF WASH THIS INSTANT, AND DON'T LET ME CATCH SIGHT OF YOU THE REST OF THE DAY!" And with a final horrible grimace, he turned and strode into the house, his face, a brilliant shade of vermilion. The small boy stood completely motionless for several seconds, and then his lip wobbled furiously and an enormous tear leaked out the corner of his eye. His small shoulders sagged, and a sob tore from his lips, he gasped several ragged breaths, and then bit his lip, to keep it from trembling. A high, irritated voice drifted out the kitchen window, "Stop sniveling and kindly remove yourself from the lawn. We don't want the entire neighborhood witnessing your theatrics." The boy wiped his hand fiercely across his eyes, then straightening his narrow shoulders, he turned and walked into the house. Once again the little fairy gaped in horror and disbelief at the scene she'd just witnessed and her little heart was torn between feeling a deep sorrow towards the boy, and a dark bitter hatred towards the other beastly people he was living with. Which feeling was stronger, she couldn't decide but both were growing steadily, the more she saw. Feeling very daring, she'd crept very near the house, and she was now nestled in a primrose bush almost directly beneath the kitchen window. She watched eagerly as the boy set the table and brought in three plates of steaming food to the bony nosed woman, the beefy man, and the chunky son. *But where is his plate?* She wondered anxiously, *What does he eat?* The boy stood obediently in a corner, his hands clasped sedately behind his back. But although his composure was demure and subservient, his eyes watched eagerly; large and hungry as the family spooned down heaps of mashed potatoes, slices of roast chicken, and steaming bits of broccoli, all drenched in luscious, brown gravy. The little fairy stared at him painfully, wishing she had some food to give him, as she watched his eyes flicker enviously over the mounds of food. He swallowed heavily, and the little fairy suddenly realized just how large and round his eyes were, sunken darkly into his thin, pointed features. His expression was drawn and his eyes were heavily shadowed, embedded deeply in his grim, ghost like little face. But although he was ravenous, the boy said not a word throughout the meal, and the minute the others had finished he whisked their plates away and disappeared into the kitchen. Once he'd washed and dried the dishes he sat waiting patiently for something, leaning over the edge of his chair, his small dark face taut with expectancy. The bony nosed woman came into the kitchen and set on a plate, a hard roll and a small piece of cheese. She smacked these on the table in front of the boy, then left huffily, her pinched nose held high in the air, as if feeding him was some enormously generous task that she performed, and he was hardly worthy. He inhaled the food like lightning, then sat staring rather sadly at his empty plate. Sighing, he shuffled over to the sink and did his dishes. He turned to gaze out the window, and the little fairy ducked hurriedly to avert his gaze. Slowly, she crept back up the window to peer into his eyes. In them, she could see the reflection of the setting sun, which he watched disinterestedly as it slid away behind the row of houses across the street. Staring into his eyes she could see they were still terribly hungry, but not just for nourishment. They were hollow and empty from lack of love. These horrible people not only starved him from food, they starved him of any kind of compassion. Those eyes although a beautifully striking shade of green, were like two empty shells, not having known any real beauty in the world. They reflected dully back what they had witnessed throughout their existence, pain and hatred. The little fairy's heart gave a horrible wrench, and she felt her hands curl despairingly into frustrated fists. *I love you* she thought, *I care about you.* Her eyes flickered desperately over the dark wisps crisscrossing his forehead, the lovely emerald eyes, and the small sorrowful mouth twisted painfully into a frown. *I love you so much* her heart called. He stood there at the window several moments longer, as if expecting something to happen, but the little fairy just sat there in the darkness, not saying anything, her heart beating wildly, fluttering up and down inside her chest. She wanted so badly to speak with him, but she knew it was forbidden. It took all her will power to sit there silently, watching his poignant gaze stare bleakly out the window into the darkening sky, as the velvety blanket of night began to sweep across the horizon. And when nothing happened, he sighed once more, a sigh that was far too heavy for his small, narrow shoulders. They drooped wearily, and he flicked off the kitchen light. She darted to the front hall window and watched him crawl into a small cupboard beneath the stairs. Several minutes later the beefy man strolled by, and when he bent over the cupboard door, the little fairy heard the distinct click of a key turning in a lock. There was a start from within the cupboard and a wicked grin spread across the beefy man's face. "See how you like being kept locked in there for a few days," he breathed malevolently into the keyhole. Then, straightening up, he flipped the key into the air, and caught it, whistling to himself as he waltzed away up the stairs. There was the sound of panicked, but muffled protests from within the cupboard, and the wild beating of small fists upon the door. But when his desperation was met only with deathly silence, the pounding faltered and there was a single wail, then a bump, as he slumped against the door, pressed as close to the keyhole as possible. And there, cramped horribly close to the narrow beam of light the hole emitted, he drifted into a tense, uneasy sleep. The little fairy hovered just outside the window watching with a heavy heart as the small boy was carried off to sleep. And sighing, her little wings beating fitfully, she flew away from the sad little house, with the sad little boy, only to be carried off herself into restless, dream ridden sleep. ~*~* So, how do you like it??? Why don't you review, then I can know exactly what you think, how does that sound? You can give me your thoughts, opinions, ideas, hopes, dislikes, whatever!! Just as long as you write something, and something long preferably (grins devilishly) Please, write a lonnnnnnngggggg review, I don't care how much effort it takes you to drag your fingers across the keyboard and search your foggy brain for something for you to say, just say it!~ Well anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed before, I love you guys!! Especially those of you who kindly wrote a deliciously long paragraph, you have no idea how happy those made me :) And whoever's been guessing it was right, it is fashioned after the little mermaid, though not the cheap animated version, don't get me wrong I love disney movies but the real fairy tale is the best.~ so good work guys! Uh..what else, sorry it took so long for me to type this up, but y'know I'm working on my other stuff too, and I know it was awfully sad, and nothing much really happened, but it was just so much fun to write, poor little harry *sigh* I promise you though, in the next chapter there's a lot of action, things happen!! Ok, well I'd better go since this is beginning to become longer than the story itself, haha, cya later~ 


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